


Fearless

by AtLeastIWasThere



Series: The Archeon Chronicles [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2018-11-13 22:38:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastIWasThere/pseuds/AtLeastIWasThere
Summary: Turning to face him, she knew she had been right about the smirk; it was infuriating to say the least.Nesta eyed him up and down, once, twice and just as he opened his mouth she heard herself say, “Don’t.”A spark seemed to fly in his eyes, “I didn’t say anything,” he smiled.“You were going to,” she snapped. Her cold demeanor was dangerous here, but he seemed to enjoy it. That was different.He leaned his body against the bar, his elbow propped against the edge. “How do you know I wasn’t just going to ask Emily for another drink,” the woman behind the counter scoffed as she continued cleaning the glasses.Nesta turned back to the man, “Because I know men like you,” She didn’t mean for that to have as much bite in it as it did, but nonetheless it only caused for him to lean in closer.“You haven’t met a man like me sweetheart,” he said and for that she had to roll her eyes. Her goal was to brush him to the side. She didn’t come out that night to have that kind of fun.





	1. Chapter 1

            She didn’t want to be there, not even in the slightest. It was a cold Tuesday night and she was pretty sure it was going to snow. “Nesta!” The voice of her ‘friend’, Amarantha, came from across the room. She was sitting a booth clad in only leather pants and a sheerblack top. Nesta looked around at the booths around her, they weren’t exactly A1 material. Many of the cushions had been slashed through with perhaps a knife, Nesta glanced at the grungy people around her, thinking that perhaps many of them were capable of doing such a thing.

            “S’cuse me,” a woman grumbled after bumping into her. The scratchy voice brought her back to reality before she willed her feet to walk over to where Amarantha was. Amarantha was an interesting sort of character, she was currently getting her Masters Degree in Women’s studies and about every week she had some sort of new tattoo or piercing on her body. Both women were currently enrolled at the University of Pennsylvania and had met while they were still in Undergraduate school. By ‘friend’ Amarantha was just somebody that Nesta knew, someone who she knew was quite rambunctious and was a little on the crazy side. But Nesta didn’t care tonight that Amarantha was a tad bit crazy, she came out that night to prove her sister wrong.

            Nesta’s sister, Elain, also attended the University of Prythian but was there for her undergraduate degree. She thought back to that morning at the breakfast table, “Oh come on Nesta… you know what I mean,” at the time she most certainly didn’t, “You can come off as kind of… mean. Now I know you mean well but you’ve got to be nicer to people and do nicer things than go to bars and drink all the time.”

            And how Nesta ended up at Mari’s, a bar for bikers and gothy aloofs, she didn’t know. All she could remember was Amarantha asking her if she wanted to come watch her boyfriend play in his band downtown.

            So that afternoon she went home, put on her brand new leather pants, burgundy top and her signature choker with the plan of rebelling against what Elain considered ‘nice girl college adventures’.

            Upon entering Mari’s it became very clear to her that her friend group was probably the youngest people in the bar. Well except for the guy sitting at the actual bar, he seemed to be only a couple of years older than her. Nesta noted that he looked too clean to be in a place like this.

            “I think it’s about to start,” Amarantha squealed followed by what some would call ‘unnecessary woohooing’ well… at least that’s what Nesta called it.

            “I’m going to get a drink,” she muttered before getting up from the booth again.

            Her boots thumped against he old wooden floor as she made her way to the bar. A frizzy red haired woman stood behind the counter, she set down the glass she was cleaning to begrudgingly ask her, “What’ll you have?”

            “Vodka and red bull,” she said curtly. Her fingers tapped the bar as her eyes flickered back over to where the young man was sitting. He wore a dusty brown leather jacket, worn heavily through the years. Despite the dingy jacket the clothes he wore underneath were quite nice. It seemed that he too was out of place.

            Another thing she noticed was how he physically looked different from all the other men in the bar. No scruff or scars decorated his face. His long eyelashes seemed to perfectly cascade what appeared to be hazel eyes. They were like embers flickering in coals. The way he styled his hair was different too, for one thing it was clean, but it was shorter and better groomed than most of the other people there.

            He was staring down at his own glass, the amber liquid swirling around in his palm. His eyes flickered up and met hers for only a moment before Nesta whipped her head back to the bartender. She handed her drink to which Nesta took a generous sip hoping that he hadn’t noticed.

            All she could picture was a devious smirk forming on his mouth. And when she heard what could only be his glass being set back on the countertop, she downed another sip of her drink. She felt him walk right up to her. Turning to face him, she knew she had been right about the smirk; it was infuriating to say the least.

            Nesta eyed him up and down, once, twice and just as he opened his mouth she heard herself say, “Don’t.”

            A spark seemed to fly in his eyes, “I didn’t say anything,” he smiled.

            “You were going to,” she snapped. Her cold demeanor was dangerous here, but he seemed to enjoy it. That _was_ different.

            He leaned his body against the bar, his elbow propped against the edge. “How do you know I wasn’t just going to ask Emily for another drink,” the woman behind the counter scoffed as she continued cleaning the glasses.

            Nesta turned back to the man, “Because I know men like you,” She didn’t mean for that to have as much bite in it as it did, but nonetheless it only caused for him to lean in closer.

            “You haven’t met a man like me sweetheart,” he said and for that she had to roll her eyes. Her goal was to brush him to the side. She didn’t come out that night to have _that_ kind of fun.

            “Just proved my point,” she smirked before picking up her drink and walking back over to Amarantha. She felt his eyes watch her walk over to the booth but he pursued her no more.

            Amarantha’s boyfriend was part of a band called ‘The Three Headed Giant,” because there were three members and in Nesta’s opinion all three of them were giant idiots. The band tried, and failed to establish them a heavy metal hip-hop band. But after listening to them for about three seconds Nesta decided she was far too sober to do this.

            Just when Amarantha let out another ear piercing, “WOO HOO!” the band started their whole schpeal about how excited they were that everyone came out that night. Amarantha turned to Nesta with a broad smile playing on her lips. The smile soon vanished as she saw something behind them, “Ohhh, some hot guy is staring at you,” she nudged Nesta’s side.

            “Just ignore him.” She scoffed before her attention turned back to the band.

            A few hours and drinks passed between the two grad students before Amarantha’s boyfriend and his band sat down in the booth. They didn’t realize how loud they were being nor how drunk Nesta had become. When it was time to leave, Nesta realized two things.

  1. How grateful she was to get out of Mari’s
  2. How sleepy she was.



The two thoughts disappeared from her mind as they made their way to Amarantha’s van and a new piece of information was exchanged between them.

“What the hell do you mean you’re leaving me? How the fuck am I supposed to get home?” Ah there it was, the reason she had never hung out with Amarantha before. She was an even bigger bitch than Nesta was.

Amarantha only shrugged, “You’ll find a way I’m sure,” and with her boyfriend’s hand in her back pocket they left Nesta out in the cold.

As she stood out on the street outside of Mari’s she realized that wearing leather pants had been a mistake. But at least she had been right about one thing; it was snowing, hard too. Inches of snow were already beginning to pile up on the sidewalk and in her hair.

“Friends leave you?” She turned and saw the man from the bar.

“No,” even slurring her bark was just as bad as her bite.

He smirked at her because he knew she was lying. He began shrugging off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. The warmth shielded her from the stark December weather. The smell of cedar and worn leather began to fill her lungs; she breathed in the scent and was somewhat comforted. Her thoughts shattered like ice when he said, “Then I’ll just wait here with you,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered, tugging the jacket closer to her.

He shrugged again, “I wouldn’t want my mother, or God forbid my sister to be out here by themselves. You know we’re like two blocks away from the red light district, right?” She nodded; at least he knew what kind of neighborhood they were in. He then gestured to his jacket, “Besides I’ve been through worse than just a little shower of snow.”

They stood there, the snow leaving speckled flakes in their hair. After a few minutes the slow trek of panic began to creep into Nesta’s mind. For one thing, no one was picking her up and she certainly didn’t trust the guy next to her. A few moments later the man next to her muttered, “Are you ready to throw in the towel yet?” She turned and saw him grinning at her. “Come on,” he said, “I’ll just drive you home.” He noticed her uneasiness almost immediately and took a few steps back. “I know it’s probably not ideal for you to get into a strangers car, let alone a stranger you met at _Mari’s._ But the offer is there if you want it.”

Her eyes scanned over him once more, he stood straighter knowing that she was analyzing him again.

Without his jacket he stuck out just like her. His blue jeans were lightly washed with no holes in that or his sweater. The burgundy sweater looked like something any of the girls on campus would swoon at. The nice kind of wool sweater you would find one of the wealthier guys on campus wearing.

She took a step forward, nearly falling on the ground before he caught her. She hadn’t exactly built up a tolerance for alcohol. His hands gripped her shoulders to prevent her from sinking into the snow that was beginning to pile up at their feet. “Sweetheart,” he said. The breath leaving his mouth turning into white smoke, “I only bite my enemies and you certainly aren’t one of them.” She rolled her eyes, “I mean, unless you ask me to bite you then I have no objection to that,”

He smiled warmly at the joke and pulled back, holding her straighter against his side, “Let’s get you home, you can thank me later.”

“So,” she slurred as they began making their way to whatever it was he drove. A small part of her really wanted it to be a motorcycle. “What’s a nice and clean guy like yourself doing at Mari’s?”

A burst of laughter erupted from his chest, “What’s a smart and pretty girl like yourself doing at Mari’s?” He asked mirroring her question.

In her drunken state she found herself giggling at that, “Touché,” she said. After another moment of silence passed he finally said, “I was property hunting.”

“Hunting?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “A friend and I opened a bar uptown a couple of years ago and we’re thinking about expanding the business to this area of town.” He paused for a moment, “One of my best friends, he’s about to get engaged and this is just something we’ve always wanted to do. Plus the mayor is rebuilding a lot of this area.”

At the mention of his friend and his upcoming wedding, she thought of her sister and how she too was getting close to walking down the aisle. And here Nesta was, going on five years without so much as a kiss from anybody. Maybe it was the alcohol or some other part of her subconscious but suddenly she realized how lonely she really was.

“Wait,” she said stopping them in their tracks. Her fingers circled around his upper arm, afraid he’d run away.

“What is it?” he said looking around the parking lot.

“We’re never going to see each other again, are we?”

He pursed his lips, “Probably not,”

“Then you have to kiss me,” she said very matter of factly.

“What?” he laughed.

She stepped closer to him, bracing a hand on his shoulder, “Please,” she said, “I haven’t been kissed in a long time and I’m afraid I’ve forgotten how to.”

He leaned back to look at her, her blue eyes leaked out her very soul to him, “Forgotten how to kiss?” He placed his hands inside his pockets, “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Please do this for me. I need to prove to my sister that I’m not some Prudish-Bitchy-Bat-Shit-Crazy-”

“Alright-Alright,” he interjected, “I’ll kiss you.” He reached up and lightly tucked a piece of her golden hair behind her ear. As he leaned in her hands braced his chest, “W-Wait, now?” she stuttered.

He chuckled again and placed his hand over his chest. It must have been the single most attractive thing he had done all night because she actually smiled at him. A smile that could set off fireworks in his stomach, “When do you want me to do it? Tomorrow after we never see each other again?”

Nesta hummed, “I guess you’re right,” she held her hands up and took a deep breath, “Alright. I’m ready.”

“You’re an incredible human,” he said before leaning in and kissing her.

As soon as their lips connected Nesta felt like the floor was being ripped out from underneath her. She braced her hands on his shoulders as she moved her mouth against his, “Wait,” she said pulling back, “This is how you do it right?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, still smirking at her, “Kissing is just like riding a bike… you never really forget how to do it.” She smiled at him again before they plunged back in, entrapping each other’s mouth, her hands gripping his hair. With one hand holding her face, the other stroked her back, pulling her closer before he pulled back.

“No worries sweetheart,” he threw her a crooked grin, “You still know how to kiss,”

That was the last thing she remembered before waking up. The cotton sheets eloped her and she mumbled something before opening her eyes to find a border collie staring back at her. She jumped back with a shriek as she realized that she was not in her apartment. Her heart stopped as she glanced down to see that she wasn’t wearing her clothes from the night before but an oversized Falcons jersey and workout shorts.

The bedroom she was in was small, but cozy. The window closest to her had a clear view of the now icy forest. Earthy tones were decorated throughout the space and she realized that someone lived there quite humbly. There were pictures of people that hung on the walls, a military medal that was sitting on the bedside table.

The sliding door to the bedroom opened and the guy who was _supposed_ to take her home stood there. “You!” she exclaimed throwing the blankets off of her, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” She pushed his aside, angry tears threatened to spill from her eyes. _This can’t be happening again._ She thought, panic seemed to flood her all at once. She wanted to hit him, to make him feel what she felt.

“Hey I didn’t do anything,” he held his hands up in defense, “I slept on the couch last night,” she didn’t know why she looked, maybe some part of her still wanted to believe that he was a decent guy. Her eyes traveled to the living room and saw the remnants of what appeared to be the truth. “Only reason I left Mo in here,” he gestured to the Border collie pup, “Was in case you needed me in the middle of the night.

Nesta eyed him warily, “What the hell happened to my clothes?”

“You fell in the snow, if I had left you in them you would have caught a cold, or worse pneumonia.” She pursed her lips, hating that he was right.

“Can you just please take me home,” Was all she said.

He nodded and left her; he came back a few moments later this time in a flannel shirt but the same leather jacket. She sat in the passenger side with her arms crossed as she directed him to her apartment. The entire way they drove in silence mostly because she was cursing herself for letting her sister get under her skin that way. She didn’t even want to think about what Elain, or God forbid Feyre, was going to say when she would walk into their apartment clearly not wearing her own clothes.

He pulled up to her apartment complex, he looked out of the window as if he recognized it, “Who did you say that you lived with, boyfriend?” he said nonchalantly.’

“My sisters, Elain and Feyre,” she said as she unbuckled her seat belt. When she looked back up he was grinning like a Cheshire cat at her, “Don’t even think about it,” she snapped, “They both might as well be engaged.” There was no verbal or physical response to that, as if he already knew.

“It was great meeting you, I’ll look out for you when I go back to Mari’s.” He winked at her before she rolled her eyes, scoffing at him before exiting his car and walking up the stairs to her apartment.

When she opened the door she found Elain frantically pacing around their apartment, a couple of their friends hanging decorations. Nesta wanted to slap herself silly, how could she have forgotten that it was the day of her sister’s Christmas party. “There you are!” Elain gasped throwing her arms around her sister; “I’ve been worried sick, where the hell did you go last night?”

“Can we talk about this later?” she groaned, “I’m just not in the mood right now.”

“Alright,” Elain eyed her sister warily; “We’ll talk about it after the party, help me with the tassels won’t you?”

So the sisters and Mor decorated the apartment according to all of Elain’s Pinterest desires, despite the fact that the party would be several hours later.

The Christmas party itself wasn’t completely unpleasant, almost nice, according to Nesta. Christmas lights hung about the wall and the food from the Deli down the street was actually good. There was a great cocktail mix Feyre had thrown together, and Nesta herself had picked up the Christmas spirit by perfecting the tinsel on the tree. The majority of the guests were there within the first hour.

“Lucien,” Elain said, “Have you see Cassian?”

Lucien took a sip of his drink, “He just told me he was parking,” Elain nodded and turned back to her sister, “You’ve never met Cass have you?”

She shook her head, “Not that I can remember. I haven’t really met any of Lucien’s friends.” Elain handed Nesta another glass of Feyre’s punch. She continued chatting with her sister and other guests from the party until the front door opened. Her sister turned and immediately headed for the door with one of the biggest smiles on her face. Nesta smiled too, she loved seeing how much her sister truly loved people. She gave her love freely and for that Nesta was probably envious of, she would always have a guarded heart.

She watched her sister reach up and give the man a bear like hug before he kissed her cheek; causing her sister to blush profusely. Nesta’s smile vanished however when she recognized the cheeky grin that was plastered on the man’s face. The same leather jacket she had let keep her warm the night before, the same person who had saved her from a place she never should have been at. Nesta took a huge gulp of her drink as her sister took the man’s hand and walked him over to where she and Lucien were still standing.

The embers in Cassian’s eyes burned bright as they settled on Nesta. Elain looked between the two of them, noticing their different reactions to supposedly meeting one another for the first time. Her sister for one thing looked furious, while Cassian looked somewhat pleased

“Well, this is going to be fun,” He grinned before the remnants of Nesta’s drink drenched his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of the comments and kudos <3

**Chapter Two:**

“NESTA!” she heard Elain screech as she turned to grab another drink from the kitchen.

“Cassian, I am so sorry, I don’t know why she did that,” Elain said hurriedly as she reached for as many napkins she could find.

His eyes watched her leaving the room as he took one of the napkins from Elain’s hand. He wiped his face before turning to Elain and smirking, “Trust me, I’ve had worse.” He almost wanted to chuckle at the sight of Elain. Her tasseled honey hair and cheeks flaming, almost as bright as Lucien’s hair. It was hard for him to believe that this sweet girl who brought so much joy to his brother was the sister of the hellcat.

He turned to his friend who motioned for him to go into the bathroom to clean himself up.

As soon as the door to the bathroom closed Elain whipped her head, her beady eyes scanning for her sister. She found her in the corner of the kitchen, nursing a new glass of punch, “What the hell is the matter with you!?” She screeched as she cornered her sister.

Nesta side eyed Elain and took a sip of her glass, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Her eyes flashed to Elain’s pointed finger at the closed bathroom door. “ _That._ You drenching my friend in your half drunk punch.”

The eldest Archeon merely shrugged, “You could say we know each other.”

Elain’s hand faltered, “Wait… You actually know each other?”

Nesta quirked an eyebrow, “Why? Is it so surprising I know people out of our social circle?”

“Uh,” She stuttered, “No… but it is for him.”

“What do you mean?”

Elain looked around before tugging her sister away from eavesdroppers, “Cassian… Well Cassian and Azriel returned from deployment this past summer. On medical discharge.”

“Oh,” Nesta said, “How?”

“Well,” Elain began, “The boys don’t talk about it much. Like. Ever. All I know are the bits Lucien has told me in passing. They were over there. Fighting it out like they had always wanted to, and then something happened. Azriel got caught in the crossfires and Cassian would be damned if they both didn’t make it out alive. Both of them were broken and bloody by the end of it. Rhys had to go to D.C. to bring them home.

“According to Lucien, he doesn’t go anywhere but Illyria and his house. You wouldn’t know it but his posttraumatic stress is horrific. Morrigan got him a dog and named it after herself.” Nesta smirked at the naming of the dog that had woken her up. Only Mor would name a dog after herself.”

Nesta’s eyes wandered back towards the door, “I had no idea.” She muttered, pushing herself off of the wall and away from her sister. Even with the new information she had, she didn’t want Elain to have any assumptions about her feelings for this Cassian guy. She didn’t care about him, not even a little.

She stepped out onto the balcony of her apartment, the twinkling fairy lights reflected in her glass. She was absolutely fuming. How dare he march into her house, hug _her_ sister, and smirk at her like…like… something had happened between them. And yet a small part of her wish something had. Other than the kiss she was almost too ashamed to think about, this Cassian… he was different. She didn’t know how different though, she didn’t know if that was something she was willing to stick around and find out.

She turned to face a cute guy. He wasn’t Prythian pretty but he would do. With his carefully groomed hair and sweet dimples, he was definitely a safer option than the one she had just left.

Determined to shake off her uneasy feeling, she smiled coyly and went to work. Feyre had called her _man-eater,_ or boy-eater, boys were easier to handle than men. He grinned, “I’m Jonathan,”

Nesta finished her sip and answered, “Nesta,”

“How’d you find out about the party?”

She chuckled darkly, “I live here,” was all she said. It was a simple enough answer but the light that flashed in his eyes was enough to insinuate where his thoughts were going.

“Does that mean you were invited or…”

“Let’s just say I had to be, or else I would’ve crashed it.”

“Crashed?” his eyebrows rose, “So you’re a bad girl?”

The eldest Archeon giggled into her glass, “Do I look bad?” Although her companion couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her, Nesta couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. She couldn’t help it. Cassian was there. A guy she had never thought she would see again. A guys he had just drenched with her drink. Even across the room his presence was evident. Like pull chain tightening them together. The crowd shifted, and then she lost him.

The guy, Jonathan, waved his hand in front of her eyes, “You looking for someone?”

Instantly she shook her head, “No,” a well covered up lie.

Her attention turned to the drink in his hand as he set it down on the porch ledge. He leaned in, his mouth grazing her cheek, “Oh yeah. Well, you look like a bad girl,”

“Me?” Nesta tsked, “Not really, I’m kind of boring actually.”

“No way, you’re too hot to be boring.” Speaking of boring, Jonathan didn’t really seem to grasp the idea of originality.

Across the room Nesta found him again, he was laughing at whatever Rhys had just said. That all too familiar shit eating grin present on his face. His eyes found hers, as if he knew she was looking for him. “You’d be surprised,” she said giving Jonathan one of her own teasing smiles. Her cheeks grew hotter when she noticed Cassian’s eyes hadn’t left hers. The idea of him watching her get her flirt on was uncomfortable.

He looked at her almost smug. Like he knew what she was doing. Playing with her food. Playing with boys she didn’t give a rat’s ass about.

She turned back to face pretty boy, “If you’ll excuse me, I see my friend.”

“Why? Where are you going,” he reached to grab her arm, “I thought we were having fun.”

Nesta shook her arm away from his grasp, “We were but you see, my friend and her boyfriend just had this bloody breakup. So every guy is enemy no. 1 to her.”

She began weaving her way through the crowd, back over to where her sisters were. There was no sight of Cassian, had he left?

Turning in a small, half circle, her eyes scanned the room. “Looking for me?” She jumped at the voice behind her. If her cup had been full she probably would have spilled it all over herself, an almost case of karma.

She turned to face Cassian, trying to look calmer than she felt, “Cassian?”

He didn’t smile. His face didn’t reveal anything that he felt.

“I wasn’t looking for anyone.”

Cassian turned his head to the side, “It looked like you were.”

 _Alright so maybe I was looking for you but why is that any of your business. Hulking busybody jack-_ He looked back at the bar where Jonathan was standing there looking at them, “Your admirer looks disappointed.”

“I just met him,” she shot back.

“In other words you don’t give a shit about him.”

So what? Was she supposed to care about a person she hadn’t spent five minutes talking to? In turn, Nesta raised her eyebrows, “Do you give a shit about every girl you flirt with at a bar?”

“I don’t lead girls on.”

Was he honestly judging her? She let out a laugh, her anger stirring inside her. Maybe she flirted and made out with her fair share of boys, but Nesta’s reputation was more exaggeration than the truth. Well… mostly.

Nesta’s eyes traveled the long length of him, her eyes scanning up and down, clinically assessing him in all his brooding hotness. And she wasn’t the only girl looking at him, others were checking him out too, hoping he’d noticed them back.

Was he trying to tell her that he was so different from every other guy she’d met? Nesta could count on one hand how many men she had met who didn’t want to use her for his own needs. She knew there were exceptions. Elain’s relationship with Lucien had certainly shown him that, but she wasn’t so arrogant as to think she was special enough to attract the exception.

Nesta had always been protective of Elain, Feyre more so in her later years, but she particularly had always been wary around the men that attracted their attention. Nesta herself had a….particularly messy past with men, well one man in particular. But nonetheless Nesta was sure to give the ‘I’ll fry your ass for dinner if you hurt my sister’ to Lucien when Elain had told her they had stopped pretending.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “So every girl you fuck becomes your girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying?” Silence, and steel eyes, met her question. She smirked, “I didn’t think so. You and I aren’t so different.”

His gaze flicked back to the bar where Jonathan stood, still looking at her, “I bet you’re one of those girls who likes to tie a guy up in knots and leave them begging.”

“Careful Cassian,” she stepped closer, her body brushing against his. This close, she had the perfect view of his mouth-the well carved jaw, proud lips parted slightly with a breath, “or someone might think that you’re jealous.”

Her words seemed to elicit a spark out of him. A scoff, a smirk, thrown down at her as if it was some sort of retort. She couldn’t help throwing her words at him even though she knew they were lies. She didn’t affect him that way, he’d said so himself. Nesta Archeon knew when a guy looked her, and this one didn’t. And yet there she was. Taunting him like she wanted something from him.

Like she wanted him.

He turned away and started cutting through the crowd. Frustrated, she followed him, not realizing until he cleaned the front door that he was leaving. Was he really just walking away? Without even responding to her taunts? How rude.

_I mean I get that he didn’t like me, but c’mon. You don’t have to be a dick about it._

She followed him anyway, down the apartment stairway until they were in the courtyard. “Why didn’t you tell your friends how you knew me?”

He turned around. Several yards separated them. “I don’t know you, Nesta.” He said it like it was the simplest reason, but there was a ring of something else in his voice. Like he didn’t even want to know her. _That stung a little,_ She thought before brushing it to the side. _It’s not as though I’m trying to win him over. I don’t care about him either._

“You know what I mean.”

Instead of turning around, he stepped forward. His boots crunched over the snow as he closed the distance between them. Cassian stopped right in front of Nesta, his hand buried into the pockets of his leather jacket. She shivered, suddenly realizing how cold it was outside and how quickly she was freezing her ass off.

“You had this panicked look in your eyes.” He leaned his head to the side, “It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. You thought you had seen the last of me. I get it. You didn’t want your friends, your sisters, knowing you were shacked up with me last night.”

Raising her brows, her lips quivered from the cold before she found her voice, “That’s not it at all.”

He shrugged like he didn’t care either way.

“I was embarrassed,” She admitted, “Not because of you. I didn’t want my sister to know that I passed out and had to rely on some stranger to take care of me. God they’d stage me the worst intervention.”

It was at this confession something shifted in his eyes. He tilted his head back, considering her for a moment.

“Not my finest hour,” she laughed nervously, “I know,” she added. Her heels scuffed the ground with the toe of her shoe. And then they just stared at each other. Him looking at her. Her looking at him. Like they were trying to figure each other out, although a small part of her doubted she could ever do that. This guy… a boy who had been to war, who had seen people die around him, was not anyone she had ever met. He nearly lost his brother, and when he returned home he returned with a scar.

For a moment she contemplated why she cared. She had scars of her own to worry about, she didn’t have time to worry about someone else’s.

Perhaps one day she would care about someone enough to show them her scars. Maybe she’d care about someone enough to shoulder their own scars.

Dark eyes with golden shards flecked throughout drilled into her, “You’re trouble Nesta Archeon.”

Funny. That’s what she had been thinking about him since the moment they had met. Yet there she was. Following him, talking to him.

“I know. I’m not your type, right?”

The air suddenly felt thick and she wished so desperately she could have taken those words back. Stuffed them down her throat, whatever she could do. She wanted to gag, it sounded like she was trying to fish for him to say he liked her.

For a second she had forgotten he wasn’t her type, she had become so focused on him. On the fact that he found her thoroughly resistible. She’d let that fact get under her skin. _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

With him she couldn’t be in control, and she needed to remind herself that every second she stood there.

“I don’t have a type.” He said, his voice rumbled across the few inches between them.

She nodded dumbly, her ego slightly bruised. But she was slightly relieved that he wasn’t going to protest and play along with her by insisting she was his type.

“But if I did,” her eyes flickered back up to his, “it would be you.”

Nesta gawked at him, shocked. If he didn’t look so displeased at his admission, _I’d actually think he was complimenting… or God forbid flirting._

Her phone rang, Nesta glanced at the caller i.d. before shoving her phone back in her pocket.

“No one you want to talk to?”

“Just my dad. I don’t need to talk to him.”

“Not close with your dad?”

Nesta shrugged, “Are you close with yours?”

It was his turn to shrug, “’Never known him. I was close with my mom though.” When Nesta’s response took the form of a stare he decided to continue, “Technically she was Rhys’s mom. Forget how I got there but… she was great. Raised all three of us, and Lis all by herself. She passed away when we were in high school… But I still think about her a lot.”

“My mom died when I was eight.” Was all she offered.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yours too.” She nodded.

“So why don’t you take your dad’s calls? What’d he do? Cut your allowance?”

“Ha,” she busted, crossing her arms, “You really don’t know me.”

“Well now I’m intrigued, Tell me about life in your ivory tower, sweetheart.”

Nesta inhaled through her nose, almost tempted to lay it all out. Just so she could wipe that smirk off of his face. But that only lasted half a second. In four years she hadn’t told a soul what happened. Why would she begin now?

Why would she begin with him?

“Why are you even still talking to me?” She snarled.

Cassian shrugged, “You’re the one who ran out after me.”

“And you’re still here. Why? You don’t even like me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, that’s right. If you had a type, I would be it. What the hell does that even mean?” She angled her head, her eyes like knives piercing him, “That I’m fuckable but not anyone you’d want to keep long-term. Is that what you mean?”

He didn’t even flinch at her tongue. Nor did he rush to any denials either. His only respond, “You’re… an interesting woman.”

“Is that what you call me?” She scoffed, “Maybe you’re just too wound up, soldier boy? Fresh off the boat and-”

He smirked, “I wasn’t in the navy.” His voice got all flirty but she kept going. Kept talking even when a part of her warned that she should have kept her mouth shut.

Nesta shook her head, “Tomorrow you won’t even remember my name, my face-”

His boots scratched against the snow again, taking another step closer, “Nesta Archeon. Blonde hair with brown highlights. Cool gray eyes.” His gaze dipped, scanning over her, “Hundred ten-fifteen pounds. Your hands,” his hands traveled down and grasped one of hers, pressing his palm flushed against hers. Their eyes beheld their kissing palms, hers much smaller than his. The tips of her fingers barely passed the middle knuckle.

“Beautiful hands. Dainty.” Cassian’s amber eyes locked back with hers, “Slender. Gentle but strong. Like they play an instrument. Piano maybe?” A dark eyebrow arched in question.

She swallowed, “I-I’ve played since I was little.”

He smiled as if he had just solved some kind of puzzle, “You play the piano.” He echoed and continued marking characteristics like he was making a list in his mind. “Silky smooth skin. Pale. A tight little body perfect for tying guys up in knots.”

Instantly she ripped her hand away from his, “Go to hell,” she growled, her teeth fully showing at him.

“Temperamental,” He gave a half smile, “See? I’ll remember you.”

And then he was gone.

Nesta exhaled, unaware that she had been holding her breath. She told herself that she was glad he was leaving. Glad that she wouldn’t have to see him again. For a moment she stared at his retreating back, his body dark against the mostly white landscape.

Turning, she headed back up the stairs, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as if that might somehow make her feel less cold.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So picking up where we left off, sorry it's been like 5 months? This semester has been hard on me and I have had some family drama. I'll try and finish this up over christmas break. But anyway I know this is a modern AU, and this isn't technically a song fic? But I used real life songs that the characters themselves 'wrote'. So this chapter is "Take Me to Church" by Hozier (how basic can I be right?) and What Kind of Man" by Florence and the Machine (bc florence welch is actually my soul mate).
> 
> Feel free to let me know how you think it's going!

Chapter 3:

The Sidra

            Nesta was grateful when Monday rolled around. There were no expectations for her to go out, and she could just go to The Sidra with Mor.

            The Sidra was a low-key bar on the north side of town. Not a lot of college students hung out there. Mor had always had the dream of being a pop star, and Nesta scribbled song lyrics on the corners of her notebooks. When Mor saw that and found out Nesta used to play to play the piano, Mor had demanded they start a girl band.

            “And who the hell are we going to start a girl band with?” Nesta scowled.

            Morrigan held up her phone, “Nuala and Cerridwen have already agreed to it.” She flashed her bright smile at her friend. It took quite a bit of convincing but Nesta eventually agreed. She only agreed because Morrigan invoked a secrecy clause into the band mates agreement. Nesta, for one, did not need her busybody sisters picking out the meaning of every lyric she sang. Morrigan agreed with her in this aspect.

            On Wednesday, Nesta grabbed her notebook ad guitar and slipped out of her apartment. The drive across town wasn’t long; she always got to The Sidra an hour before call time.

            Even though it was only four o’clock, they were deep in the winter and the sky had begun to fade. The dim light of candles and purple lanterns that hung from the ceiling lighted the inside of the bar. The light reflected against the black leather booths that guarded the stage. This bar, needless to say, was different from her usual hangout Illyria. The bar was situated in the middle of the room, facing a stage that lined the entire wall. The dusty blue velvet curtain draped the stage’s frame. A single microphone stood in the center of the stage as techies in black arranged the scenery.

            Nesta sat on an old wooden stool, her feet propped against the stage as she scribbled the last bit of the chorus for a song she had been working on all week.

            “That’s really good,” Nesta jumped at the sound of Mor’s voice, she never got there early. “Not your usual,” she flipped her blond hair over her shoulder and moved to sit on the stage.

            “Good’s not my usual?” Nesta said flattening the pages of her notebook, her fingertips scanning over her writing.

            With a side glance and puckered lips Mor shook her head, “No,” she said, taking then notebook from her head. While reexamining the smudges she nodded, “It’s personal somehow,”

            Her words forced Nesta to sit back and examine her work. She snatched the notebook from Mor’s hands, “There’s nothing personal about it whatsoever,” she snarled, because there wasn’t. Nesta had retreated to her room after her last encounter with Cassian and started writing this song. She had a stern talk with herself that just because he only slightly inspired the main theme that, that did not mean anything.

            “Okay,” Mor shrugged, “Let’s do it tonight then.”

            Staring back at the pages of her notebook, the title “What kind of Man,” made her slam her notebook shut, “No,” she said firmly.

            Oh. Hell. No.

            She was not writing a sog about him. She was not that kind of songstress. She did not write songs that sounded like unrequired affection, especially since there was no affection to be had.

            “What? What’s wrong, it’s a good song. Let’s sing it tonight.”

            “No. It’s total shit and it’s not even done yet and we’re just not going to do it at all.”

            Mor scowled and placed a hand on her him, “Come on, it’s been ages since we sang something new. And I’m tired of taking request from the audience, the new Taylor Swift song is not our style.” Nesta bit her lip, singing that song would make her more open that she wanted to be, not just with Mor, but everyone, “and besides, we have an extra hour tonight to practice.”

            “Fine,” Nesta huffed, “We can sing that stupid song-wait,” Nesta paused her rant and raised her eyebrow at Mor, “What do you mean we have an extra hour? We’ve been performing at the same time on the same day of the week for the past year?”

            Morrigan’s freshly threaded eyebrows rose, her blue eyes wide, “Didn’t I tell you?” a quiver in her laugh reverberated throughout the room. A shaky smile rose on her lips as her eyes traveled to the door behind them.

            “Tell me what?” She bit out. The door behind them opened, causing Nesta to jerk her head towards the upsetting noise. The answer to her question fell below her line of sight before her friend could even respond.

            Tall, brown locks falling at his shoulders, and wearing that damn leather jacket he always wore. _Cassian._ The name hissed against the crevasses of her mind.

            Her vision turned read as she went back to Mor, “You did this?” She whispered low, deadly, “We had a deal.”

            Mor held up her hands, “Yes, I know we did.”

            “That no one we knew outside of this place would know, or ever hear about this,” Mor hesitated, which was never a good side when Nesta was mad because she would just keep going, “This is my safe space and you brought my mortal enemy!”

            “Mortal enemy? Oh shut up, you barely know him.”

            “And just because he’s your friend that means I have to be his friend?”

            “No,” Mor sighed, “It means I’d like you to be somewhat civil with him. Give him a chance.”

            Nesta eyes her warily as he approached her from behind. She turned to meet his ever-present cocky grin, “Mor,” he said as she got up and threw her arms around his neck. He rubbed the small of her back; his eyes gazed over Nesta’s body. She had just thrown on her black skinny jeans, a red top, and her black leather jacket; it was nothing special. He nodded at her, “Nesta.” She only gave him a brief nod and he chuckled, actually laughed at her, “See I told you I’d remember you.”

            Her cheeks flushed-only slightly at the memory of their encounter in the snow, “Oh go to hell,” She snapped, her golden curls swaying against her shoulders.

            Cassian pointed at her, his smile somehow growing, “Still temperamental I see,” Mor placed her hand on his arm as a cue for them both to calm down, if only for her sake, “I look forward to seeing you ladies play tonight.”

            “What do you plan on doing with that?” Nesta nodded to the guitar he was carrying.”

            He glanced down at his rugged old case, stickers from long forgotten bands were beginning to peel off, “I intend to play it,”

            Mor threw one of her arms across Nesta’s shoulder, “Too bad it’s not a competition, you two would set the place on fire,” She laughed.

            “good luck,” Nesta said, “They’re a touch crowd and you’re going first.”

            “All the better to warm them up for you sweetheart,” he winked at her before Morrigan pulled her away to go practice. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach only reinforced the idea that she really didn’t want to play that song.

****

            Mor had been sure to save them a table close to the stage. “Cassian’s the one that got me into this sort of thing.” She said taking a sip of her drink, “Singing, performing. Actually showed me this place before he got deployed.”

            As dark and moody as it was, The Sidra had been one of the few places Nesta felt like she could be herself, she never would have found that if not for Mor-well now-Cassian.

            “So what’s his deal?” Nesta suddenly found herself saying.

            Mor tilted her head, “What do you mean?”

            “Never mind,” she mumbled. Mor opened her mouth but the announcer over the loud speaker began to introduce Cassian.

            He came out there, guitar and stool in hand. Pushing the hair out of his face he earned a few squeals from the girls in the back. He laughed awkwardly at then, and then greeted the crowd. He played a few covers and Nesta had to admit, he was good. If nothing else she had respect for him as a musician. After a few songs he leaned into the mic, “So this is a new song I’ve been working on. You guys will have to tell me what you think about it.”

My lover's got humour

She's the giggle at a funeral

Knows everybody's disapproval

I should've worshipped her sooner

If the heavens ever did speak

She's the last true mouthpiece

Every Sunday's getting more bleak

A fresh poison each week

"We were born sick"

You heard them say it

My church offers no absolutes

She tells me "worship in the bedroom"

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you

I was born sick, but I love it

Command me to be well

Amen, Amen, Amen

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

[x2]

If I'm a pagan of the good times

My lover's the sunlight

To keep the goddess on my side

She demands a sacrifice

Drain the whole sea

Get something shiny

Something meaty for the main course

That's a fine looking high horse

What you got in the stable?

We've a lot of starving faithful

That looks tasty

That looks plenty

This is hungry work

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

[x2]

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

Only then I am human

Only then I am clean

Amen, Amen, Amen

Take me to church

I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

Offer me that deathless death

Good God, let me give you my life

[x2]

            Whistles and clapping hands erupted from the audience as Nesta just stared at him. Cassian’s gaze danced across the crowd until his eyes settled on Nesta. He hadn’t looked at her the whole performance, not until now. A small smile ghosted his mouth, not a cocky or arrogant smile. It was soft and somehow innocent, Nesta’s cheeks heated as the song master winked at her and tossed his pick in her direction. Almost like a reflex, Nesta reached forward as the pick found its way into her hand, earning a sharp laugh from Mor. If Nuala or Cerridwen noticed what she had done, she didn’t know, they certainly didn’t say anything.

            The four ladies moved to the back stage area and began prepping for their show. Before each show she prayed that, that night wasn’t the night she got stage fright and ran off the stage. But this show was different, and she couldn’t make any promises to herself.

            At shows Mor did all of the talking, Nesta and her shared the singing bits, and the twins did the back ups. Nuala on the drums and Cerridwen playing whatever instrument they needed for that particular song.

            “Hey everyone,” Mor chirped, “So we’re finally going to sing something new. Nesta claims it’s not personal, but I’ll let you guys figure that out for yourselves.” She winked, earning an honest glare from her fellow band mate.

 

I was on a heavy tip

Try'na cross a canyon with a broken limb

You were on the other side, like always

Wondering what to do with life

 

I'd already had a sip

So I'd reasoned I was drunk enough to deal with it

You were on the other side, like always

You could never make you mine

 

And with one kiss

You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years

What kind of man loves like this?

 

To let me dangle at a cruel angle

Oh, my feet don't touch the floor

Sometimes you're half in and then you're half out

But you never close the door

 

What kind of man loves like this?

What kind of man?

What kind of man loves like this?

What kind of man?

 

You're a holy fool, all coloured blue

Red feet upon the floor

You do such damage, how do you manage?

Trying to crawl in back for more

 

And with one kiss

You inspired a fire of devotion that lasts for twenty years

What kind of man loves like this?

 

What kind of man loves like this?

What kind of man?

What kind of man loves like this?

What kind of man?

 

But I can't beat ya, cause I'm still with ya

"Oh mercy, " I implore ("Oh mercy, " I implore)

How do you do it? I think I'm through it

Then I'm back against the wall

 

What kind of man loves like this? What kind of man?

           

After the song had ended Nesta didn’t even want to look in Cassian’s direction. Because if she did he would know what she knew. He would know who inspired her rock and roll ballad. So needless to say she couldn’t wait to get off of that stage and hear the next group.

The last band for the night played loudly and fast, Nesta watched the drummer go wild with his sticks. Sweat trickled down her neck, a mixture of her nerves and the atmosphere itself. The Sidra was hot and jam-packed. People bumped around her, their drinks leaving a sticky residue on her skin and the floor.

She took another gulp of her Jack and Coke, Mor’s face scrunched in concern from across the room. Nesta didn’t care. Her goal was drunken oblivion.

Slamming her glass down against the bar, she flipped her hair away from her neck. Despite her best efforts to ignore Cassian for the rest of the night, he found her. He stood on the other side of the bar; a concerned looks sketched across his face. She wanted to scoff at that, as if he’d be worried about her.

A guy squeezed himself between Nesta and some other stranger. She sighed, typical frat guy, not even Prythian frat. His baseball cap was backwards and his obnoxiously colored chubbies matched the Greek letters on his chest. “Hey,” he said wiggling his eyebrows at her, “I’m Chad.”

Hey,” Nesta said back, trying her best not to imitate him.

“Are you alone?”

She waved behind her, “I came with some friends,”

“Cool, me too. You guys were great.” Nesta only nodded as the bartender handed her regular to her. “So I saw you on the dance floor.”

“Yea?”

“Yeah, you’re the hottest girl out there.”

 _Ah yes, the brilliance of flattery,_ “Do you go to school around here?” She nodded, “Cool, I’m an econ major-”

“Chad, let’s cut the crap. You don’t care about my major and I don’t care about yours.”

His eyes widened, “Oh, wow, you’re to the point.”

She nodded, lifting her glass to meet her lips, “You got that right/”

“I can get to the point to,” he leaned in, “Let’s get out of here.”

Suddenly everything felt bleak. Was this all that she would get from life? Would there be anything more than this? A father who loved her as long as she lived independently, sisters who were lucky in love, would she ever have anything like that? No. She thought, not after everything with Tomas. She had to be in control, opening up didn’t work for her anymore.

Turning back to her glass, she downed her drink and signaled for the bartender to make her another one She grasped the glass, the condensation chilling her fingers. She was ready to down whatever drink she had and let it burn her throat until she was comfortably numb inside.

“You’ve had enough,” A warm voice cut through the fog of her inner thoughts. A gentle hand placed itself on her back, another hand taking the glass from her hand.

Spinning around, Nesta’s eyes fixed on Cassia. God-she was such an idiot. She had been thinking about him all week-hell- she’d written that song with only him in mind. Still. The reality of him burned much longer than a few whole notes. Those melting chocolate eyes blazed down at her, almost ready for the fight she was prepping for. “You’re not the boss of me,” was the best she could come up with. Did she have to sound like a seven year old when she said that?

He actually had the audacity to place her drink on the other side of the bar, out of her reach, “About this I am.”

She glared at him, he was starting to wonder when the smoke would start fuming from her nostrils, “Give it back.” She snarled. Not a request.

“Why?” he shrugged, “So you can let some jerk you don’t care about paw all over you?”

“Hey!” Chad objected, but Cassian and Nesta’s stare never left each other. She was too busy glaring at Cassian and letting all of that fire run through her veins. She hugged those feelings close to her heart; it was better than what she felt before.

The idea of him thinking he had the right to tell her what to do only shook the fury in her more, he wasn’t her friend. He didn’t even like her.

“Jealous?” she raised her brows at him, “You seemed to be having a great time with Morrigan.”

Oh god- now she sounded jealous- of her own friend nonetheless.

His mouth opened ever so slightly, he certainly hadn’t expected her to say that, “You’re not getting drunk.”

“Surprise- but I’m already there.” Well close anyway. He was really killing her buzz. “Look,” she said pushing the hand that remained on her back away, “You’re Lucien and Mor’s friend- I get it. But I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”

As if she hadn’t said anything his voice rumbled through the air, “You definitely don’t need another drink.”

“Oh fuck you.” Nesta flung out. Gratification swept over her when she saw a muscle pop in his jaw. He didn’t like that at all.

“Come on, let her stay,” Chad beckoned from behind them. Why was he still there?

For the first time since walking over there Cassian acknowledged the overzealous frat, “Stay out of this.” He growled. Cassian turned back to Nesta, “Please, let me take you home.”

Nesta’s eyes found the table her band mates sat at, “I already have a designated driver-thanks.”

“C’mon, let’s go. You getting hammered isn’t going to be fun for your friends.”

She rolled her eyes, sliding off of the stool. Although she resisted the idea of Cassian taking her home, she really didn’t like the idea of a fight breaking down in her safe haven. So she nodded, knowing she wasn’t the kind of girl who giggled at the idea of two men fighting over her. Although… it did turn her on a little bit.

The people staring turned back to their own drinks, or companions, as Cassian pulled Nesta out of The Sidra. “Are you actually insane? She snapped against the chill of winter, “Did you have to cause a scene?”

“Oh get a fucking clue Nesta, he was telling all of his buddies all of the dirty things he was going to do to you. I heard them.”

Nesta swallowed, pushing down the bile that rose in her throat. She knew what kind of guy he was from the moment he opened his mouth. Except this time, she didn’t need rescuing. So why did Cassian think she did? “So he was talking shit?” she shrugged, “isn’t that what you guys do?”

“Not to you,” he said now, almost lethally, “you might not think you deserve more respect than that but I do. You deserve better.”

Stunned, she couldn’t think of anything to say back to him.

Reclaiming her hand, he resumed hauling her drunken ass across the parking lot. What the hell did he mean by that? He thought she deserved better? But she wasn’t like any of those girls. She wasn’t like Feyre or Elain, a nice girl looking for a happy ending. That just was never in her cards.

“Contrary to what you think, I don’t need rescuing.”

He let out a howl of laughter, they were almost to his truck, “Sweetheart, you need rescuing in the worst way.” Nesta stared at his back, wanting to hit something. Him.

Cassian opened the passenger door for her, “Get in,” he snapped. _Neanderthal._ She cursed him.

Nesta sunk in the worn seats of his truck, her arms crossed, “What does that mean? I’ve survived the first twenty three years of my life just fine on my own.”

“That’s debatable,” he shrugged.

She flinched; it was as if he could see right through her… could see the girl hanging on by a thread. How could he read her when he hid that chapter of her life from everyone else?

Again, she felt judged. Lost. Confused. Her own mind mingled with the whiskey and by the time he opened his driver side door hot tears ran down her cheeks. Damnit. How fucked was she? How many drinks did she have to turn her into a drunken crying mess?

She felt him sitting by her, silent, probably shocked. His presence burned right through her, causing even more tears to flow down her frost bitten cheeks.

From the beginning she had known to keep him at a distance, he was a threat to her control. And now she was crying?

“What do you want from me?” she sobbed, “Why-Why are you doing this?” Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

He loomed next to her. So close, he shook his head, “I don’t know.”

Mortified that she was actually crying in front of him, she turned away, as if that could hide the scene she was causing.

A deep sigh came from his mouth as he turned his key into the ignition. After a moment, Nesta hesitated as they drove down the road. “Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Well before I take you home, we’re going to McDonalds.”

She turned to him, “McDonalds?”

Cassian shrugged, turning up the heat in his truck, “Because there’s nothing like a good coke after a good cry, and I feel like an ass and no other place is open.” He ran his fingers through his hair, fiddling with the radio station, anywhere he could put his fidgeting hands. The whole act somehow caused the corner of Nesta’s mouth to turn up- only slightly.


End file.
